


The art of not following your father’s footsteps

by Lindseygrrl (itsyu)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-03
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6992161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsyu/pseuds/Lindseygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus is annoyed, Scorpius is in a sharing kind of mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The art of not following your father’s footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is to your enjoyment, dear receiver-of-assy-gift =)

**Author:** [](http://lindsey-grrl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lindsey-grrl.livejournal.com/)**lindsey_grrl**  
**Recipient:** [](http://silverguivre.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://silverguivre.livejournal.com/)**silverguivre**  
**Title:** The art of not following your father’s footsteps  
**Pairing(s):** Albus/Scorpius  
**Summary:** Albus is annoyed, Scorpius is in a sharing kind of mood.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warning(s):** None  
**Word Count:** 1967 [I know, 33 words short :/]  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Notes:** I hope this is to your enjoyment, dear receiver-of-assy-gift =)

  
Again.

The goddam FAIRY beat him. _Again_.

It was getting to be ridiculous, really. He had already had Remedial DADA classes for _years_ , he was re-taking the fourth year class in parallel to his own, and thus now had to hear Lily making fun of him, he studied his ass off – even Scorpius had taken pity on him and helped – and the freaking fairy _still_ managed to beat him.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, he still had to listen to professor Mortham tell him that “if only he could tap into that famed Potter talent, you’d have no problem! Look at your sister, look at your brother!”. He loved his family, but they could be such a pain sometimes.

With a scowl that would make one of his namesakes proud (or maybe not, considering on whose face it was on) and dared anyone to comment on his color changing eyebrows and glittery lashes and hair, Albus strode his way to the dungeons, grunted the password, huffed to his room, and fell face-first onto his bed – or, to be more precise, into the dirty sock he had left there that morning and the elves still hadn’t gotten around to cleaning.

Albus screamed in pure frustration.

Granted, it was in great part muffled by the eiderdown, but it was loud enough so it could be hear by the chuckling boy by the door.  
Albus knew that chuckle – he knew that chuckle oh so _very_ well.

“If you enjoy the ability of breathing, and being alive in general, you’ll stop that infuriating sound _right now_ ” said Albus, coldly, in the tone and manner he had learned from Snape’s portrait in Headmistress Sullivan’s office, as said former headmaster offended all previous and future Potter generations, and their “idea of being amusing and great creativity with names”. It had been worth it, though, not only did it intimidate first-years like nothing he’d ever seen, but if freaked out his father a great deal.

Scorpius, though, only chuckled some more from the doorframe.

“What was it this time? Pixie?” Albus mumbled something incomprehensible. Scorpius made his way to Albus’s bed, leaning in, his hand to his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that…”

“FAIRY, alright. It was a goddamn fairy,” shouted Albus, causing the fairy-placed glitter in his eyelashes to go everywhere on his bed and on Scorpius. Now even his bed was defiled. Great.

Scorpius sighed, brushing glitter away from his pristine black robe.

“Can’t you just drop the goddamn class and be done with it?” asked Scorpius, starting once more their oldest argument. It was almost a ritual by now, both tiredly reciting their lines, with no prospect of a decent conclusion.

“Dad would be disappointed. He always tells us never to give up; besides, he actually has some hope I’ll some day turn out to be some super secret dark-defeating abilities, or something…” said Albus, not looking at Scorpius, instead gathering the glitter he had caused to spread over his bed in a neat pile.

His father never pressed them into anything, and was as easy-going as it could get, and that was why Albus feared disappointing him so. Besides, his dad already had to deal with a Slytherin, possibly-less-than-straight, Quidditch-hating son, Albus didn’t want to add insult to injury by completely failing in what made his father famous, to top it all.

“Parents are made to be disappointed, Al. It like a divine law or something, trust me.” said Scorius, dropping himself unceremoniously at Albus’s bed, making all the glitter Albus had gathered jump and spread once more. At that, it was Albus' turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, wouldn’t _you_ say… I swear sometimes I pity your dad.”

“He’s got a strong heart on him, that I’ve got to give to the old man…” said Scorpius, with a smirk, stretching and accidentally brushing his foot against Albus’s head. “But, then again, it’s not really my fault, is it? He’s the one who married my mother without really knowing her, and it’s only luck I take it after her…”

“I highly doubt your mom enjoyed dating Muggleborn girls and had a radio collection when she was younger, Scorp,” said Albus, swatting Scorp’s foot away.

“That’s what you know…” said Scorpius, mystically. Albus stared at him for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

“You almost got me there, y’know. Good one.”

“I’m serious. Well, not about the radios, of course, but apparently mom was quite given to the softer side when she was younger…” said Scorpius, thoughtfully. Albus stared at him some more. “And _how_ d’you know that?”

“Found some diaries of her. And heard dad rant at her about it once, too, though back then I thought he was just being paranoid.” Scorpius stared into the ceiling, thoughtful. “Do you think maybe it’s gentic, or whatsitcalled?”

“Genetic, you mean?” asked Albus, puzzled.

“Yeah, that’s it. With the things getting passed down and whatnot.”

Albus rolled his eyes. Scorpius enjoyed greatly hearing about Muggle things, especially science, but his memory for it was just sad.

“I don’t know… But why are you even worrying about that?” Albus thought about adding ‘I thought I was the slightly bent one over here’, but refrained, remembering Scorpius’s reaction to _that_ particular news in the past. He hadn’t been bad about it, just looked… odd when Al told him he might like boys too. Albus never approached the subject again.

“Well, just… never mind.” Scorpius' face was much more serious now, and he had fallen back on his old habit of biting his left thumb nail, always an indicator that things weren’t good.

Albus took the newly formed pile of glitter and threw it at Scorpius, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Effectively, the other boy smiled.  
“C’mon, stop being such a nancy, and tell me what’s wrong,” said Albus, pinching Scorp’s shoe-clad toe.

“You, the guy who just threw _glitter_ at me, calling me a nancy? That’s rich,” said Scorpius, but his smile, even if small, persisted.

“Don’t dodge the question, what’s up? What happened, dreamed of me naked and woke up with a stiffy?”

Scorpius looked away. And blushed. And when he said “of course not!” it wasn’t at all that convincing.

Ohhh shit.

Alright, regroup. Think fast.

“Oh, that’s normal, it happens to me all the time too.”

Damn, he hadn’t said that. No way. No _way_ he was that stupid. It was true, mind, but still, BAD move.

“Hm, I mean, erm..” Damn the Potter ability to talk under pressure. Scorpius was staring at Al now. He took a deep breath. “Alright, ignore all that, and just tell me what happened, so we can pretend this conversation never happened,” said Albus, sinking his head in his bed afterwards.

Despite it all, Scorpius chuckled his infamous chuckle once more, only it was slightly shaken, which made Albus worry a bit.

“Well… the thing is, these Muggleborn girls, weren’t exactly all girls. Actually, some were definitely not girls – or Muggleborn, for all that matters, though it really doesn’t, does it?” The last part was said all in one breath, and Scorpius had pulled his legs up to his chest, and was stubbornly messing with an invisible tread on Albus’s eiderdown.

“Woah. Who?” was all Al could say, even though it was prying and not really thoughtful and, who cares, he was curious.

“Daniel Spickman…” said Scorpius, still not looking at Al. Albus frowned.

“Didn’t know you two were friends…” Scorpius blushed.

“We weren’t. Aren’t. Not really… It’s more like… Erm, y’know.” Albus knew, though it didn’t make him feel very well.

“Oh…”

“I liked the way he looked, and vice-versa. Not much more to it, really.” Albus thought about how Spickman looked. Dark-hared, bespectacled, green eyes. Nothing much, really. Albus himself liked blonds the best. Though not Scorpius. No way. They were just friends. Just _friends_. Right. Even though he’d had those dreams, and some thoughts and almost kissed him once, when they were really drunk. Just friends.

“You like dark-hared boys then?” asked Albus, because it was all he could think of to say, and Scorpius’s uncharacteristic shyness was getting to him.

“Yeah, hm, no… Well, I think you can say so. Though it’s not that simple, I think” Scorpius was looking him straight in the eyes now.

Albus sat up. “Not that simple?” Scorpius worried his lips for a moment, then stretched his legs and leaned slightly forward, looking resolute.

“Oh, screw it… Yeah, you see… I think I like – well, screw that, I _like_ a friend of mine.” Scorpius smiled that quirky smirk that always made Albus smile back.

“Oh?” Albus licked his lips. For some reason, the smirk on Scorpius' lips – which were indeed quite close, considering boys weren’t supposed to be too close one to the other, especially sitting in a bed – for some reason were making him flush.

“Yeah… and he has dark hair, you see.”

“Really?” Albus, for some reason, swallowed hard. His mouth was strangely dry, though Scorpius' lips looked quite moist. He wasn’t sure what the state of Scorp’s lips had to do with the state of his, but somewhere there was a connection.

“Indeed.”

“Have- have you told that friend of yours about it?” Albus cursed himself for stuttering. He hated not being in control of things, but sometimes he thought he was a bit too much like his father.

“You can say that. Sort of. But I think he knows…” said Scorpius in a bit of a whisper.

“Oh, do you?” He swallowed dry again, whishing to take of his jumper, so hot he felt, but not wanting to move, not to break the strange mood that had taken the conversation.

“Yes, I do. What do you think?” asked Scorpius, cocking an eyebrow, his voice sounding a bit unsure.

“I think… I think he’s a lucky boy, your friend.” Scorpius looked a little startled at this. Albus’ stomach sank when he pulled back a fraction.

“Really?” asked Scorpius, eyes a bit wide.

“Hm, yeah. Really.” And, at that, Scorpius leaned forward, and kissed him. It didn’t surprise or shock him. In fact, it felt surprisingly natural.

Scorpius’ lips were as moist as they looked, and it stung as they made contact with Albus’ slightly chapped ones, but in a pleasing manner. The hand in his neck made the hair on Albus’ arm stand on end, and Scorpius’ face felt very soft under his hand.

Scorpius’ tongue was the proper amount of soft and hard as it darted into Albus’ mouth, and Albus had to hold himself not to moan out loud as his own tongue stroked Scorpius’.

By the time they separated, both were panting, Scorpius looked flushed and Albus didn’t even dare imagine what his hair must look like.

“You are aware that your eyebrows are still changing colors, and that there’s glitter absolutely everywhere, right?” asked Scorpius, voice soft, eyes amused, after an instant of shared shy, but happy, smiles.

Albus was not aware of it, as a matter of fact. However, as he pulled Scorpius into another kiss, he did not care much, either. Nor did it seem that Scorpius did. And the process of extraction of glitter from absolutely everywhere, afterwards, proved to be very much entertaining.  
  
***

One of the thoughts on Albus’s mind that night, as he lay in bed, staring at his canopy with a goody grin, was that maybe dropping out of Defense Against the Dark Arts maybe wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, he was quite into – and had been for a good while now, if he was being honest with himself – a very-boy, very-Malfoy person, and if his father could get over that – and Albus had a feeling he would, after a while – there wasn’t much he wouldn’t manage.


End file.
